Hey Curlfriends, it’s Court.
Every performer has probably had their run-ins with ’em.
As a pretty, young-ish woman who sings about sex in a way that isn’t too common, I get the googeley-eyed fans who don’t know whether to shit or go blind when they meet me. It really is adorable and it makes me beyond grateful that my comedy affects people like that! And this is how most fans are that I’ve encountered: googeley, nerdy, and non-creepy.
Then there are the people who don’t know, can’t sense, or don’t care about the boundaries between fan and artist, or the boundary between art and artist (like, I sing about sex, but that doesn’t mean I’m fucking everyone or just anyone in my path). I am sure I have been guilty of it to an extent; I hope not to the point of creeping out someone of whom I’m an honest-to-goodness fan. But I can be a little intense (A LITTLE?) and when I love something, I loooooooove it. Nerds are like that.
But creepers are the worst. And it’s not just like the guy that approached me at Amsterdam last week to make a lyric suggestion. He was clearly an awkward fellow and I don’t like to come across as unapproachable, so I chatted with him for a moment. Then it seemed like he was a little insulted I wasn’t taking his suggestion seriously, but whatever.
The kind of creeper I want to address is like the dude that approached me Tuesday night at the 331 Club. He must be the same guy who put his arm around a friend of mine the week before at our show and asked just *how* does one become friends with Courtney McLean? Well, first off, don’t be a fucking creep.
So, last night, this dude is standing in the back of the 331 and I wave at him wildly, mistaking him for a buddy of mine. He comes over and I was like, “Oops! Sorry, I thought you were my buddy.” He seemed jokingly weirded out by it, so I invited him to sit down with us because I’m a friendly gal and I like new people! So he did and I asked his name. He told me (Mark), and claimed we had met and had a conversation a month or so earlier in front of the same bar we were in. I didn’t remember that, so I asked him to refresh my memory. And he just looked at me in this weird way, like, “You don’t remember me? Come ON. You remember me.” Which caused me to think, “oh shit, did I make out with this guy?” but (A) no. I remember that shit. and (B) I wouldn’t have made out with him. But he just seemed strangely offended that I didn’t remember him. Hey man, we’re all superstars up in this joint and sometimes I don’t remember people. All I asked was for a little reminder and it was suddenly a stupid thing. And he wouldn’t tell me. He wouldn’t tell me how we met or what we talked about! I told him he was mistaking me for someone else. He said something about how no one could mistake me for someone else (it happens ALL THE TIME). But, seriously, just remind me! Don’t be insulted if I don’t remember you: I meet a ton of people and usually when I’m out and about, I’ve probably had something to drink or smoke. It happens. Don’t take it personally and get the fuck over it. I re-introduce myself to people all the time because, even if I remember them, I never assume they remember me.
Then he says, somewhat mumbly and fast, something like, “If you want me to just get the fuck out of here, say so.” Something like that. I heard most of it, and requested he repeat himself. He did. So normally, with people that get it, first off, they’re not saying stupid shit like this. Secondly, most of the time, I would respond with, “No! what makes you say that?” And I almost did, but the way he said it was so aggressive and laden with manipulation, that I said, “Yeah, actually, I would like you to get the fuck out of here.” I think he was taken aback and he got up and left. (although Anna said as he was getting up to leave, he was nodding at her in this “what’s up, what’s up, what’s up” kind of way. UGH).
And then he stood in the back doorway, STARING AT US for who knows how long till I spotted him there and pointed straight at him, “LOOK HE’S STILL HERE!” and yelled to him that I would call the cops if he didn’t leave. Maybe I over-reacted a little. Maybe he was just nervous. But I’ve heard too many horror stories about creepy fans and I’d rather just show my loud, poisonous colors right off the bat to let people like him know I’m not going to take any bullshit.
I didn’t see him for the rest of the night and I didn’t look for him. I don’t know what more I could have done and who knows if he’s one of these dudes that thrives on the overreactions of his “targets.” I really don’t think he meant any harm. Maybe he was just nervous. Or high. Anyway, his name is Mark and he’s a white dude, maybe almost 6 feet tall, stocky build, brown hair with a little bit of facial hair, was wearing a worn black leather jacket and a shoulder bag, dressed in dark colors. And he looks like Gus Lynch from across the 331 Club. If you know this dude, maybe you can shed some light?
Anyway, don’t be a creep.
UPDATE: Today I remembered who this guy Mark is. He’s a regular at the 331 and a friend of mine works there and confirms he’s a weird guy, but probably harmless. Sorry to call him out, but no, I’m not really because I felt harassed and I won’t apologize for protecting myself.